I hate being cold. I’m not sure but there was an incident in grammar school that may explain this.

It was the routine at school that classes would line up in the yard with our class each day by a certain time. I really don’t remember what time but it was early, something like 8 o’clock.  The nuns would come open the school doors at a specific time and as we were trained to do, we would march in to our classrooms. The truth was you could set your watch to the time the doors were opened by the nuns.

One incredibly frigid Bronx winter morning the nuns did not show up on time to open the doors.  We were very obedient little girls, trained like soldiers and lined up in our straight lines waiting in the cold to get into the school. 

I don’t know how long we were standing there but for a small kid who was freezing it seemed like forever.  Then, finally the nuns opened the door.  I don’t remember ever getting a reason why they were not there on time or an apology for keeping us waiting, but as I was taught “children should be seen and not heard”. They never explained and I never asked.